If I Surrender
by Hibiko Shinichi
Summary: Jacob puts pen to paper; that is, if thoughts and doubts are ink and Embry is a solid surface. Jacob has always relied on Embry before, and this Thursday is no different. Mild slash.


Just because I think Embry could work with anyone and everyone. I love him.

--

It was times like these when Jacob felt misunderstood.

Abandoned, betrayed, disconnected--they were all the same, so negative, built up in his chest like a balloon swelling, waiting to burst.

It was times like these when he wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. Abandoned because the person he'd had his heart set on since the first time she came to visit him had been spirited away by a monster, a bloodsucking creature of the night that somehow, Jacob could not compete with. Betrayed because every time she gave him a sign it was a false positive; every heated kiss, every plea to stay, every 'I love you' was conquered by cold, hard-tile marble skin and bleeding amber eyes, and she reneged on every promise she'd made to him time and time again. Disconnected because no one else knew what he was going through, and no one could help because they didn't understand.

And then reconnected, because there was one person who could help him, and one person who stayed.

Embry had always been there. Always; from Jacob's first crush way back when, to now when he was trapped in this endless, self-mutilating cycle of 'she-loves-me she-loves-me-not'. He'd always understood Jacob the best, and he'd been a heaven-sent psychologist disguised as a best friend for years now. He'd never been at a loss for a few comforting words, a reassuring outlook, a positive solution. He was Jacob's confidante, and, in a way, he knew more about Jacob than Jacob did himself.

Today was no different; today was Thursday, and here they were again, down by the ocean. Walking, talking, listening and problem-solving, all hand-in-hand with relaxing.

"It's just..." Jacob made a frustrated noise, clenching his hands into fists. "I don't know if I can do this anymore. Hell, I don't know if I _want_ to do this anymore sometimes!"

"Well, do you still love her?" Embry, beside him, glanced up from the sand beneath his bare feet.

Jacob sighed angrily, glaring from the sea to the sky and then finally coming back to Embry. The black-haired teen's eyes were soft and understanding, the slightest frown settled on his lips. "I...I think I do. I mean, I'm stuck on her like I've never been on anyone else before, but.."

He exhaled deeply, searching for the right words to describe the ache in his chest when he saw Bella. "She hurts me. Every time she kisses me, I can see how she thinks of the bloodsucker and how obsessed she is with him. And I know I shouldn't be doing this to myself, letting her lead me on while she's only got eyes for him, but it's like I can't stop myself from wanting her."

"Well, then maybe that's the problem," Embry said. "Maybe you're just stuck, because you've loved her for so long that now you can't stop thinking you do, even when your heart's telling you you're over her."

His words were soft, kind, and Jacob mulled them over. What if Embry was right? Would that explain the detachment he felt now, nagging at the back of his mind when he fought for her, when he vowed never to give up on her? "Do you really think so?"

"There really is a difference between _thinking_ you're in love and actually _being_ in love," Embry said, a smile breaking across his face. "I would know."

"Oh yeah, I remember that. You thought you were in love with Leah for so long..." Jacob grinned and Embry ribbed him playfully. "Shut up."

They were quiet for a while, Embry thoughtful and Jacob pensive. Then Jacob asked, "Do you know what it's like? Really, really...being in love?"

Embry kept silent for a few moments, but his gaze turned to Jacob and his eyes were dark and fond and unreadable. After a beat he sighed, smiled, and nodded. "I used to think it wasn't anything real," he said. "I kind of brushed it off as nothing, but...yeah. Yeah, I know what it's like."

Jacob smiled back and, the next time his hand brushed Embry's, he didn't pull away.

--

Yes, I do know that thoughtful and pensive are basically the same thing. But they sounded good in that sentence together, so that's how I wrote it. And there wasn't really that much slash in it, but I thought it deserved the label, so there you go.

Reviews are like Batman to Robin.


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